


dancing in detroit

by chromyrose, infiniteandsmall, orro, sinagtala (strikinglight)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pre-Canon, Seasonal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 18:16:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16392698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chromyrose/pseuds/chromyrose, https://archiveofourown.org/users/infiniteandsmall/pseuds/infiniteandsmall, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orro/pseuds/orro, https://archiveofourown.org/users/strikinglight/pseuds/sinagtala
Summary: Yuuri and Phichit's friendship as it develops through the seasons.





	1. spring

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for a Phichit and Yuuri zine that unfortunately never happened. 
> 
> https://phichuurizine.tumblr.com/

Phichit has half of his clothes out on the bed before he realizes this is not his side of the room. At first glance it seems so bare. But now that he looks around he can see the notebooks tossed onto the desk and the trash full of old bandages. 

He catches a glimpse of a poster of Victor Nikiforov hidden by the angle of the bed. It’s his first look at his roommate and Phichit can’t tell a thing about him other than he’s a figure skater, which he already knew. 

He hurriedly tosses everything back into his suitcase and deposits it on the correct bed. It’s a good thing his new roommate didn’t walk in to see that; Phichit could laugh it off but he doesn’t know how his new roomie would react. 

Phichit eyes his actual bed but sighs and bundles up to go out. Celestino is expecting him to stop by so he can see the rink for himself. He grumbles a little as he walks as quickly as he can to the rink; springtime should mean shorts not jackets. 

There’s no relief when he gets to the rink because it’s colder inside. Phichit considers a change in careers. 

“Ciao Ciao! Phichit, I warned you about the cold, didn’t I?” Celestino says with a too wide grin. He knows Phichit comes from the land of wet, hot, and humid. Phichit is going to sabotage his hair gel with hot pink dye next time he’s in Bangkok.

There are a few skaters on the rink and after showing Phichit around, Celestino returns to them. One calls out to avoid a collision and Phichit feels very out of place all of a sudden, his tongue heavy and awkward though he hasn’t spoken to anyone yet. But he came here for a reason. 

Everyone looks vaguely familiar; Phichit has seen them all on streams or Twitter before. They’re all international contenders. And Phichit is one of them now even though he’s not from one of the big figure skating countries. 

The skater who had moved out of the way to avoid getting hit is doing a jump now. Phichit admires the near text book perfect triple axel. His axel still needs plenty of work; he keeps tripping over it in combinations. He’s tired but still tempted to grab his skates. 

“Phichit, come here!” Celestino calls out to him, the axel skater from before standing by his side. “This is Yuuri. He’s your new roommate.” 

“Hi,” Phichit says with a hopeful smile, trying to remember if he’s supposed to wave or shake hands. He practiced this.

“Hello,” Yuuri says. 

“He can show you around, right, Yuuri?” Celestino says.

“I guess?” Yuuri says, a little surprised for some reason. “I don’t think I know Detroit that well yet though, Coach.” 

He seems nice. And he doesn’t look like the serial killers he’s seen in movies. That might be because he’s probably not American; Yuuri has a cute accent that makes Phichit breathe a little easier. Between Celestino and Yuuri, he doesn’t feel like he has to speak in perfect English anymore.

“Nonsense,” Celestino says. “Phichit, you look dead on your feet. Go home and sleep.” 

Phichit turns to leave and he’s surprised when Yuuri makes a noise to stop him. 

“I need to finish changing and then we can go back to o-our dorm?” Yuuri says. 

“You don’t have to?” Phichit asks, because Yuuri doesn’t seem like he’s tired. And he looks a little uneasy now that Celestino isn’t by his side. 

“Uh, well, I got lost my first week here,” Yuuri says, grimacing a little at the memory. “It makes more sense to go back together?” 

“I have been so worried about that,” Phichit admits. “I keep having nightmares that I’ll end up in the wrong class and fail everything.” 

“Oh,” Yuuri says. He blinks. “I don't think that can happen?” 

“It totally could,” Phichit says.

“Okay. Um. I need to-” Yuuri says, pointing to his skates and Phichit nods way too hard. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I’m talking too much. Go ahead!” Phichit says then groans when Yuuri leaves to change. He has a cute roommate that he’s going to scare him away. But he has no filter right now and he just wants to make friends.

Yuuri comes back out and it’s an awkward, silent moment as they both try to gesture to the other to go on ahead. Yuuri finally starts fast walking until Phichit falls in step with him. 

“I accidentally sat on your bed, by the way,” Phichit says. Yuuri gives him a look like he thinks Phichit is telling an unfunny joke but he’s too polite to point that out. “I thought it was mine cause it was empty. Sorry.” 

“My old roommate didn’t like my poster collection,” Yuuri explains, blushing a little. His hands tighten on his backpack straps. “So I took them all down.” 

“You can put all of your posters back up,” Phichit says, hoping he hasn’t damned himself. 

“Okay,” Yuuri says, clearly humoring him. 

They fall quiet again and Phichit desperately looks around the campus to keep the conversation going. Yuuri looks bored. 

“What’s there to do around here?” he asks. 

“There’s some parties, concerts, that kind of stuff. Uh, there’s a good Turkish place nearby that Celestino likes to go for lunch.” Yuuri pauses and turns away a little. “I’d rather be skating though.” 

“I get you,” Phichit says. He loves skating, but he likes doing other things too. But he doesn’t want to look like he isn’t taking it seriously. It seems like the right answer because Yuuri doesn’t start to rant about how skating is the most important thing and you have it give it one hundred percent. Instead he raises his arm and points ahead. 

“There we are,” Yuuri says. 

Phichit doesn’t recognize the building from this angle at all. He means to thank Yuuri for showing him the way but instead he pulls out his phone. This is a moment he needs to capture with a killer filter and an on point hashtag. 

“Selfie time,” he announces, mostly to himself, but then he realizes he said it out loud and Yuuri is looking at him in confusion. “Do you mind if I do?” Phichit asks, paralyzed with a fear he had never considered before. What if Yuuri hates people who are on their phone all the time? 

“Sure; I just never use mine like that?” 

“How else do you use Instagram?” Phichit asks, a little terrified to hear the answer. He almost trips over a jagged crack in the sidewalk leading up to the entrance in his worry.

“I mostly follow people?” 

“But you’re a figure skater! You have fans! You should definitely be posting stuff. We can take a second picture or I can tag you.” Phichit stops when he sees Yuuri frowning at the ground. “We don’t have to.”

“No, it’s fine,” Yuuri says. “Go ahead.” 

Phichit stops in the middle of the lobby and before he can get to the side, Yuuri presses up close enough to get into the shot. Yuuri huffs a little laugh as he sees the photo and it’s too adorable. 

“My glasses always turn out crooked,” he says, pressing them up. 

“Is this okay?” Phichit says. 

“Yeah,” Yuuri says, a little shy. 

Phichit follows Yuuri up the stairs, careful as he types and uploads. 

_First selfie! Thanks for the warm welcome @y-katsuki #newroomie #bestyearever #figureskating #toocold #springisforshortsnotjackets #freezing_


	2. summer

As the supermarket bustles around them, Yuuri wonders if Phichit hasn’t become frozen. He can’t remember ever seeing his roommate stand still for this long, and since he’s propping the door to the freezer open with his body, ‘frozen’ is a really appropriate word.

“Phichit-kun,” he calls, darting nervously to his left to prevent a woman barreling down the freezer aisle with a full shopping cart from clipping him. “Haven’t you decided yet? I don’t think we should be keeping the door open for so long...”

“If I close it now, it’ll fog up. We won’t be able to see what’s inside,” Phichit responds, seemingly oblivious to Yuuri’s concerns about the likelihood of security cameras all around and a red-faced manager who will come bark at them any second.

“Why is it taking you so long to pick one?”

“Because American flavors are so weird!” Phichit pops out of the freezer holding a pint of ice cream in each hand. “Butter Pecan? Rum Raisin? Oh, do you think there’s any alcohol in this one?”

“Phichit, no,” Yuuri replies, but his curiosity has been piqued. He moves closer, shivering at the blast of the cold air against his arms. Yuuri almost can’t blame Phichit for taking so long to deliberate, not with all of the options in front of them, but he also can’t really justify the fact that they’ve been here for ten minutes looking at ice cream. He skims the various packages, some bold and colorful while others are understated, even mature, until his eyes land on a familiar image.

“Here,” he says, grabbing a yellow box. “Fruit-flavored ice pops. Maybe this way Celestino-san won’t completely kill us for cheating on our diets.”

“It’s too hot for diets,” Phichit comments, but he puts back the cartons he’s holding and shuts the door. Yuuri feels a rush of victory. “This one looks good though. I trust your judgment.”

When he puts it like that it makes Yuuri nervous, but Phichit seems unaware of the pressure he's added. He goes to pay for the ice pops, fortunately doing all of the talking. Yuuri is wholly unsurprised when Phichit manages to endear himself to yet another cashier before they go. 

–

The initial rush of heat when they first leave the store is pleasant to Yuuri’s chilled skin, but it isn’t long before the sunshine goes from merciful to unforgiving. By the time they’re back in their dorm room, Yuuri has repeatedly wiped sweat off his nose to keep his glasses from sliding off.

Phichit takes it a step further, and peels his shirt off before Yuuri even has the door shut.

“Phichit-kun!” Yuuri stammers. He’s not offended by nudity, given his family’s business, but this time it takes him by surprise. It feels different, being alone with one shirtless boy.

Phichit looks over his shoulder, and Yuuri's eyes fix on the way his back moves with his arm. Then Phichit turns around, holding his shirt out in front of him. It's damp all along the neck and back and it makes Yuuri wince.

“It's too hot for shirts,” Phichit decides, seemingly pleased with the way Yuuri reacts. “I'm not gonna wear one until the landlord fixes our air con.” He tosses his shirt aside, pulls the box of ice pops out of the bag, then easily rips it open. “What flavor do you want? There’s cherry, orange, and grape.”

“Oh, um… cherry?” Yuuri decides, and Phichit calls back, “Okay!” He bustles around in the kitchen, softly singing a song Yuuri doesn't know. When he returns to the living room, he flops onto the couch, then pats the spot beside him.

“You don't have to wait for an invitation,” he says with a giggle. It's not the first time he's had to remind Yuuri that he's no longer a stranger in his own home, much to Yuuri's embarrassment. They've only been living here for a few months, but Phichit took to the idea of this apartment as 'home' so quickly it almost makes Yuuri feel inadequate.

Fortunately, Phichit is patient; he holds out the ice pop and waits, his smile unfaltering, until Yuuri sits down and accepts it with a murmured “Thank you.”

Phichit unwraps his ice pop first, a vibrant orange one, and immediately licks up the side before swirling his tongue around the top, sucking it into his mouth. Yuuri flushes and fumbles with his waxy cellophane wrapper. When he reveals the tip of the ice pop, he takes a shy lick and is relieved for the coolness against his tongue.

“Hey,” Phichit says. “Wanna trade?”

He's pushing the orange pop under Yuuri's nose and leaning in closer. Personal space boundaries are definitely being ignored, but Yuuri's too lost in the bright shine of Phichit's eyes to articulate a complaint. What color are they, anyways? Grey? Maybe hazel?

Then it clicks, where Phichit wants him to put his tongue, and Yuuri starts stammering.

“P-Phichit! I don't-- I can't – I don't think that's--!!”

Phichit tilts his head, bangs falling over one eye. Phichit's the only person Yuuri knows who looks good with straight-across bangs. “Haven't you ever done this with your friends? With your sister?”

Yuuri is reminded of when he, Takeshi, and Yuuko would go to the conbini after school and sample each other's selections, giggling as they judged which of them had the best taste. Somehow, this feels nothing like that...

Even so, with Phichit giving him such an open, earnest look, Yuuri can't say no. He holds his cherry pop out, and Phichit licks. Yuuri has to wipe sweat off his brow. Phichit’s gaze darts up and he sits back, his lips bright red. 

“You’re overheating, Yuuri,” he says, and the fingers of his free hand find the hem of Yuuri’s shirt. Phichit tugs on it. “Take this off.” 

“Phichit,” Yuuri whines, slapping at his wrists. “Cut it out!” 

“This is for your own good! I can’t let you die of heatstroke!” 

“My family runs a hot spring! I can handle the heat!” 

“Yeah, naked!” Phichit shrieks, defiantly yanking Yuuri’s shirt up and exposing his tummy to the still air of the room. Yuuri swats at Phichit's hand and brings up his knees to hide the skin that's been uncovered. 

“Stop!” He shouts, and Phichit does, freezing where he's ended up hovering over Yuuri. His eyes are as wide as saucers. “Phichit-kun, I…”

Phichit exhales slowly and moves back to his seat. He sheepishly slurps at his rapidly melting ice pop, then says, “That was too pushy, right? I'm sorry, Yuuri.”

“It's okay,” Yuuri responds, breathlessly. “Um… you were right, anyways. It is hot.”

He sets his ice pop down on its cellophane wrapper and is very aware of Phichit's gaze on him as he reaches behind his head and pulls his shirt off. After he tosses his shirt aside, Yuuri picks his ice pop back up and slurps on it as he tries not to wonder what Phichit's thinking. 

“I never noticed you have freckles,” Phichit says, pointing with his orange pop to Yuuri's abdomen. 

“That's a mole.”

“Ah,” Phichit responds thoughtfully. When Yuuri looks back up at him, Phichit is grinning. “It’s really cute, Yuuri.”

“...Thank you.”

Phichit hums happily. With an unapologetic smile, he leans back and puts his feet in Yuuri’s lap. Yuuri is surprised by how little he minds as he smiles back.


	3. fall

After a few days of damp drizzly cold, Phichit feels ambiguously glum about everything. He couldn’t even feel excited when Katy had asked him to go apple-picking: he’d told her that under no circumstances would he spend more time than he had to outside until the weather shaped itself up, and now he feels kind of bad when he sees her at the rink, even though she is a good friend who understands. 

It’s another wet day, and Phichit is complaining loudly while getting ready to go to class. Since he’s taking most of his classes online, he only has to physically go to class twice a week. When the weather had been nice, Phichit had looked forward to it. Sitting in his room doing homework on his laptop got lonely and boring, and his classmates were cool. This week, though, with the cold weather and the intermittent drizzle, Phichit just isn’t feeling it. 

“Yesterday, I stepped in this huge puddle when we were leaving the rink and my socks were wet the whole drive home, it was the  _ worst _ , Yuuri,” Phichit is grumbling, half to himself, as he leans against the door pulling on his tennis shoes.

Yuuri looks up from where he's sitting on his bed, wrapped in blankets and tapping on his laptop, blinks at Phichit from behind his glasses.

“Do you want me to drive you to class?” Yuuri says. 

“It’s fine,” Phichit says, pulling on his coat. “I’ll just take the bus.”

“Okay,” Yuuri says, looking down at his laptop screen again.

Phichit zips his coat up pointedly high and rushes out.

 

He doesn’t see Yuuri’s text until after class, when he settles in place at the bus stop to wait with one hand jammed in his pocket and the other tapping idly at his phone.

_ hope you have fun at class, stay warm! :) _

It’s a nice message, and thoughtful of him to send it, and Phichit feels a little better. He thinks of the message a few times as he sits on the bus and watches the mist-shrouded houses roll by, and it makes him smile.

Usually when he gets home at this time, Yuuri is at the gym working out or the dance studio practicing. Tonight, though, the lights are all on.

“Yuuri?” Phichit calls, prying his shoes off. “What are you doing home?”

Yuuri has plugged in the little string lights that Phichit talked him into buying. Their hot plate,technically-illegal rice cooker, and electric kettle are all plugged in, and the whole room smells good. 

“I fed the hamsters.” Yuuri says. “? So that they’re ready for us to hold them.”

Phichit feels an overwhelming urge to either burst into tears or kiss Yuuri’s face, or maybe both. 

“Yuuri,” he says, tossing his arms around Yuuri’s shoulders. “You’re so nice. You’re too nice.”

Yuuri waves him off. “I picked out a movie, if you wanted to watch one together?” Yuuri says.

“I would  _ love  _ to, Yuuri,” Phichit says. Yuuri gets too into his own head sometimes, and doesn't always notice what the people around him might be feeling, Phichit’s figured out. To realize that Yuuri knows Phichit and looks out for him and tries to make sure he is doing okay is really nice, and Phichit feels a little overwhelmed and very full of love.

 

By the time the movie is over, it's nearly full dark outside. They sit pressed side-to-side in Yuuri’s bed, holding the hamsters cupped in their palms, stroking them and feeling their tiny slow heartbeats.

They complain about the cold and their sore feet and classes and annoying rinkmates for a while, but soon they fall quiet. It’s not awkward at all: the hum of Yuuri’s laptop and the sounds of the people above them walking around all blur into soothing white noise, and Phichit realizes that he’s close enough to count Yuuri’s eyelashes. It doesn’t startle him, even though he thinks that maybe it would startle Yuuri if he noticed. 

“You know,” he says. “Sometimes I really wish that everyone back home knew how amazing skating is.”

Yuuri nods. 

“I wish everyone knew how amazing skating is,” Phichit says. “But especially people back home. Because I love them, and I want them all to be happy. You know?”

“Sometimes,” Yuuri says, stroking Caramel pensively. “I forget how happy skating used to make me.”

“I understand that,” Phichit says. “Sometimes I get stressed about it. But then I remember. I guess if I didn’t remember, I wouldn’t do this.”

“Even when I can’t remember,” Yuuri says. “I can think of my goals. Things I want to do before I can’t skate anymore.”

Phichit pats Cream softly. “What’s your biggest goal, Yuuri? I’ll tell you mine!” he jostles Yuuri’s shoulder gently, and Yuuri smiles. 

“Tell me, then,” he says.

“I want to start an ice show back home,” Phichit says. “Have all the cool skaters I’ve met come, so everyone can see how awesome ice skating is and get into it. Wouldn’t that be the coolest?”

“So cool,” Yuuri says, a grin in the corner of his mouth.

“Imagine, like,” Phichit says, and he can see it, the bright colors and the fun music, everything that made him sit up when he was a kid and say that’s it, that’s it, that’s going to be me, “a kid coming up to you and saying that you were the one who made them want to skate. Wouldn’t that be the best thing ever?”

“I’ve never really thought of that,” Yuuri says. “But that sounds amazing.” 

“You have to tell me yours, now, Yuuri!” Phichit says. 

“Ah, it’s silly,” Yuuri says, waving a hand at him.

“No, it’s not!” Phichit says. 

“It is!”

“Yuuri,” Phichit  whines. “You promised! Tell me! Plea-a-ase?”

Yuuri’s cheeks are red, but he smiles all the way to his eyes. “Okay, okay, I’ll tell you. I really...before I stop skating, I want to, at least once, maybe. Skate against Viktor Nikiforov?” he buries his face in the hand that Caramel is not nestled in. “That sounds so stupid!” 

“It’s not!” Phichit says. “You’re amazing, and you will skate against him, and I’m going to get a picture of you on the podium with him. Just watch. You’re going to do it!”

“I don’t know,” Yuuri says. “I hope so. If I work hard enough. Speaking of hard work...”

Phichit twists to look at the clock. “Practice tomorrow,” he groans. 

The feeling of warm calm persists as they put the hamsters away and change into their pajamas and brush their teeth. Phichit thinks Yuuri feels it too: it hangs in the air like the smell after rain. 

“Hey, Yuuri,” Phichit says. “Can I sleep in your bed tonight? Mine’s so cold!” 

Yuuri looks at him, eyes wide. “If...if you’d like to, I do kick sometimes,” he twists his hands together, and his cheeks are pink again. Phichit thinks he looks good when he blushes.

“Doesn’t bother me,” Phichit says, sliding under the covers next to Yuuri.

Yuuri is nice and warm and Phichit snuggles close to him gratefully. “Also, do you want to go applepicking with me sometimes next week? Katy asked me to go and it would be even more fun if you went too!”

“Oh,” Yuuri says. “I’d love to? I’d love to.”

“It’s a date then,” Phichit says, and his heart does a little happy thump.

When he drapes his arm over Yuuri’s side, Yuuri takes his hand in his and clasps it tight.


	4. winter

Yuuri’s not sure what he’s doing, following his roommate through an otherwise empty park in the middle of a winter night. All around them the year’s first snow is falling. He can barely keep up with himself, much less with Phichit as he bounds ahead.

The snow had started a half hour ago. They’d just left practice; Yuuri had seen the first flakes drift down and settle in Phichit’s hair and on his shoulders without realizing what they were. That had registered only a moment later, after Phichit had touched his hair and held out his palm, showed Yuuri the whiteness turning to water in his hand.

“Is it  _ snowing?”  _ he’d asked, goggle-eyed. Yuuri had blinked and thought, as the sky opened up above them,  _ So it is. _

His next thought was that they really should be getting back to their apartment—only now he’s fairly certain he never got to say it, he lost it somewhere in the middle of Phichit saying they should take a detour to the park and look at the trees, and the river too.  _ With snow falling. _

Yuuri had thought the trees and the river would look much the same as always, tonight with snow falling as any other night, in rain or sunshine or blistering fall winds or anything in between. But he  _ knows  _ he never got to say this either, because Phichit had said “Come on,” eyes shining under the streetlamps, and every protest had winked out, short-lived as a match.

All that, he supposes, is what led them here. Further ahead on the path, just a few strides short of the spot where the trees break to reveal the water, Phichit’s paused, waiting.

“See anything you like?” The way he stands, looking back, rocking restlessly on his heels, moves something in Yuuri’s memory.

The back of his neck goes warm, and he blurts out the truth before he can stop himself: “You look a lot like my dog right now.”

Immediately Yuuri wants to die a little, lie down on the ground off the path and let the snow cover him, but he sees the delight bloom on Phichit’s face and hears his laughter bubble over seconds later.

“Since you love your dog more than most people, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” As Yuuri draws up, Phichit takes his wrist, and they walk to the water’s edge side by side. “C’mon.”

They dust the snow from one of the benches so they can sit and watch the river, and the city lights twinkling all along Ambassador Bridge. There’s nothing left for Phichit to say now, and though the silence is unusual, it’s not new. Yuuri’s seen him get like this before, all quiet and thoughtful and wondering—over a blazing summer sunset, or freshly picked apples, or the sure, steady touchdown of his blade on the ice the first time he ever landed his quad toe, the second, the third.

Then Phichit sneezes. Even muffled by his sleeve, the sound breaks the quiet in two.

“I’m fine,” he says, before Yuuri can ask, though his ears are red, his teeth chattering. “Promise.”

“You’re not.”

“Okay, then I’m dying,” he declares, with a nod that should be solemn, but the gleam still dancing in his eye belies it, the twist of his mouth. When Yuuri elbows him in the side, he pushes back with one arm, grinning, and the gravity is gone. “Gonna lose a finger. Or an ear. Or my  _ nose.” _

“Take my scarf, at least.”  _ And my hat and my gloves and my coat, _ Yuuri’s tempted to add. In the end he refrains; the more he fusses, the more Phichit will dig his heels in. “It could save your nose.”

Phichit hums, eyeing the scarf as Yuuri unwinds it from around his neck. It’s his favorite—the big fluffy one he and Mari took turns knitting one autumn in junior high, just to see how far they could go. Their mother had remarked it was half a quilt already by the time they ran out of yarn in the right shade of blue.

“I can take half. There’s enough scarf for both of us, Yuuri.”

Yuuri’s about to say he thinks not. Really. But he did make the offer, and Phichit asked for half, so he’ll let him do the honors, shake the scarf out and wrap it around both their shoulders like the blanket it was possibly always meant to be.

They’re quiet together again awhile before Phichit starts to laugh, softly, like he’s remembered something this time.

“There’s no winter in Thailand. The first time I ever saw snow was at an amusement park in Thanyaburi—except it was all hard, you know, like shaved ice gets when it’s packed. My sister and I dove into a drift and nearly broke our noses.” He bumps Yuuri’s arm with his shoulder again, reaching over to flick a few stray snowflakes from his knee. “This, though, this stuff is nice. More like what I imagined. Almost makes being out in the cold worth it, after all the rain we got in the fall.”

Yuuri smiles, wry. “It’ll probably come down heavy in a few weeks. It might even storm. I’m sure you won’t wanna leave the house at all then.”

“You know all about snowstorms, I’m sure. D’you have them in Hasetsu?”

“Oh, no. No snowstorms. Or barely ever—we’re a coastal town, so mostly it was just light dustings like this.” Yuuri knows, too—there are so many stories for them to pass the winter with. He could tell Phichit about following Vicchan into the yard, and about helping his mother take the kotatsu out of storage, and the sea in the winter, steely grey or even black on especially overcast days, dark green like a jewel on days the winter sun was out. And the gulls by the pier, no matter the season. All the sights and sounds that still feel close when he reaches for them.

“You miss home.”

_ Well, yes, but— _

“Don’t you miss your city too?”

“Bangkok?” Phichit pauses, and smiles. “There’s lots of things to remind me of it here. The noise, the cars. Everything moves fast over there too. But I do miss the sun, and the long summers. And my family, definitely.” Yuuri nods—they’ve talked a lot about family. “I’m glad I came here, though. I wonder if it’s the same for you.”

_ It is,  _ Yuuri thinks.  _ You know it is. _

Except when he opens his mouth somehow he manages to sneeze loudly into the scarf instead. Yuuri’s face burns; he sniffs, tries again: “We should—”

“Go home.” Phichit grins. “That was what you were gonna say, right?”

Yuuri feels the warmth in his chest uncoil and settle.  _ You know. _

“Maybe.” He untangles himself from the folds of the scarf as they stand; warm as they both are, it’ll be impossible to walk back that way. He tucks it twice around Phichit’s shoulders—doesn’t even blink, this time, when Phichit catches his arm and sneaks both their hands into Yuuri’s coat pocket instead, fingers entwining so that Yuuri can count them.

“Am I gonna make it, doc?”

“You’re fine,” Yuuri says, squeezing his hand, the pressure more than enough proof that every finger’s right where it should be. And when Phichit laughs, Yuuri leans into the sound—listens close as it rings out from the heart of him, echoing all around them under the snow-touched trees.


	5. epilogue

It's Yuuri who takes Phichit's hand, leads him away from the technician arguing with him that the red light is completely fine instead of the pink one that Phichit can see right next to them, away from the skaters bobby pinning the hamster hats to their heads, and into the relative quiet of the empty dressing room.   
  
Yuuri sits them down at the vanity and Phichit stares into the mirror. His eyes are too wide open and he keeps twitching to go back out.  
  
"Isn't this exciting?" Yuuri says as he slips Phichit's hat off so he can give his head a chance to relax. Phichit is already sweating from running around backstage trying to coordinate everything.   
  
"They're going to put the red light up, Yuuri, and we're all going to look like gremlins."   
  
"It'll be pink," Yuuri assures him. "It's going to be great. Phichit on Ice will be a resounding success. You'll go viral. Get all the stars on Instagram."   
  
"Likes. You're doing that to distract me," Phichit says with a laugh. Yuuri smiles and doesn't deny it. He looks too adorable with the hamster hat. Phichit hopes it stays on. What if it flies off while Yuuri is doing a triple axel?   
  
"Hey," Yuuri says, pressing their foreheads together. "Talk to me."  
  
He’s warm. Phichit leans in, and gives himself two seconds to relax into it. Just two seconds before his brain kicks back into high gear, and he notices.  
  
“Your eyeliner’s not done.”  
  
“I was hoping you could do it for me,” Yuuri confesses, except Phichit can’t help thinking it also sounds kind of conspiratorial. The black liquid liner pen he produces from seemingly nowhere as he says it—his sleeve? his back pocket? some secret makeup compartment in the folds of his costume?—makes it seem even more so. “Preferably while you talk, or is that setting the bar too high for your makeup skills?”  
  
Phichit takes the pen, then a deep breath. He’s got to concentrate. Liquid eyeliner is fussy as all hell, and though by now he’s so used to doing his own he can do it with both eyes shut, with one hand tied behind his back, in a moving car careening down a road studded with potholes, and still get two perfectly symmetrical, razor-sharp wings every time—doing the same tricks on someone else is another ballgame, to say the least. Should he fail, Yuuri’s likely to look like a raccoon with a hamster’s head on its head.  
  
It’s a lot of pressure, but the thought is weirdly centering. He makes himself laugh again, and feels the twisty feeling in the pit of his stomach settle just a bit.  
  
“I’ll show you makeup skills. Close those beautiful eyes for a minute.”

Yuuri obeys. Phichit watches his long thick eyelashes flutter down onto his cheeks, and it is so familiar: he is immediately brought back to Detroit, to the rare nights when Phichit would convince Yuuri to go out dancing with him. Phichit had always done his makeup beforehand, though he hadn’t been nearly as good at it as he is now.

“Keep them shut!” Phichit says. 

“Sorry!” Yuuri squeaks, and it’s so damn cute. It makes Phichit want to pepper kisses on his cheekbones and nose and the adorable twin corners of his mouth, one slightly higher than the other. In Detroit, he would’ve, without even thinking about it, but now, he’s not sure. 

“I remember,” Yuuri says, “you always used to use an eyeliner pencil on me, before we went out.”

“I remember that, too,” Phichit says.

“You nearly poked my eye out,” Yuuri says, so fondly.

“Hey!” Phichit says, and Yuuri chuckles.

“You’re lucky I was finished, or you would’ve messed that one up so bad,” Phichit says. “If you want to open your eyes now, you could. Just for a minute.”

Yuuri does, and it’s not until he does that Phichit realizes how close together their faces are.

“Hey,” Phichit says, soft this time.

Yuuri’s cheeks are red, but he meets Phichit’s gaze with something that’s almost a grin in the corner of his mouth. 

“Hey,” he answers just as softly, his voice carrying a little laughter. Phichit can’t look away from Yuuri’s eyes, which only draw more attention now that one of them is lined. Yuuri calls him out on this. “You’re staring.” 

“Have you always been this pretty? How come I never noticed before?”

Yuuri’s expression takes on a more familiar sheepish look, but he’s still smiling. His lips are bright with coral lipstick. “I think you used to respect my need for personal space more.” 

From anyone else it would be a hint that Phichit is coming on too strong; he does that sometimes in his excitement. But now, combined with the soft look that Phichit is tempted to think of as bedroom eyes, it just makes his smile melt into a grin so wide he can hardly contain it. 

“Oops,” he says, not feeling sorry at all. Yuuri laughs. 

When they leave the dressing room a few minutes later, Yuuri’s eyeliner is done, so sharp it could kill a man, and Phichit can’t restrain the smile on his coral pink lips. 


End file.
